Not Strong Enough
by Dark Kaneanite
Summary: Song fic, dont' like don't read.  Easy peasy.   Slash, Draco/Neville.


_Alright, Song fic, song by Apocalyptica. Same name. Sorry it it seems OOC but sometimes you have to step out of the norm to get a good story. Please enjoy and remember it's Slash. Man on Man. I don't normally ask for reviews because I write for myself, but I would like to know if I'm doing good. I'm getting a lot of favs, so please, leave a few words, even if it's just 'HOT!'. anyways, enough ramble from me. enjoy! Dreville._

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><p><em>I'm not strong enough to stay away.<br>Can't run from you  
>I just run back to you.<br>Like a moth I'm drawn in to your flame,  
>Say my name, but it's not the same.<br>You look in my eyes I'm stripped of my pride.  
>And my soul surrenders and you bring my heart to its knees.<br>_

It irked him that he couldn't push the dirty blonde Gryffindor from his mind; not even for a decent night's rest. It was as if the hazel eyes waited for his own silver orbs to close in deep slumber before running riot in his mind. The outcomes of the dreams were always the same; he'd awake short of breath and sticky from body contorting release. With a growl he grabbed clean clothes and robes and headed towards the showers; rolling his eyes as his very obvious state of morning arousal was made the brunt of his dorm mates' lewd jokes.

His shower like always was a rushed affair as he didn't want to give his mind the time to slip back into its sordid dreams and leave him a groaning and moaning mess where any one of the Slytherin males could walk in and catch him. After all what would that say about the great Draco Malfoy; womanizer—and to lesser extend man-whore –his sexual escapades were legend in his year and to be caught jerking himself to the mere thought of someone, a Gryffindor at that, was tantamount to social suicide. Especially the Gryffindor that had taken up residence in his mind the past year or so.

By the time he exited the showers his skin glowed a bright pink from rigorous scrubbing and his hair lay in its perfect slicked back coif. Not a thing looked out of place when he made his appearance and signaled for his goons; if anything their stupidity always managed to take his mind off his tossed and turned night and he could put up the front that the entire school was used to seeing on his pointed features.

As they made their way to breakfast he tried to figure out when it started; his infatuation with—No! He couldn't even bring himself to think of the other teen it was so embarrassing for him. It wasn't as if they had any contact outside of sneered insults during Potions for those few times when he'd managed to run across him in the halls between classes so the sudden urge to see his body flushed with passion and his head tipped back as he mewled—because he was certain that the teen mewled or at least whimpered, he seemed the type—was a complete surprise to him.

He was so lost to his thoughts that he didn't even notice that they'd entered the Dining hall and was turning to say something to Crabbe, or maybe it was Goyle; bah it didn't matter they answered to either name anyways; when he ran smack into the back of the very teen that had been eating away at his brain. With an 'ooph' he fell back and he looked up ready to snarl but the hateful words stuck in his throat as the hazel eyes and blushing face of his secret heart's desire stared down at him. The light pink worked its way up his cheeks to his hair line.

"Watch where you're going Longbottom." Goyle growled as he took a step closer with his fist raised threateningly.

Neville's eyes widened and he let out a small 'eeap' before scuttling over to the Gryffindor table and taking a seat. As he watched, his mercury colored eyes narrowed dangerously. Next to Neville sat Seamus Finnigan and the damned Irish half-blood had his arm around Neville's shoulder, pulling him close. The blush that been on his face seemed to intensify and he nearly growled as Neville looked down and chewed his lip before nodding.

He stood and dusted himself off, intending on going over and giving Finnigan a piece of his mind but he stopped before he could take one step. Neville wasn't his, and besides to be caught fawning over a Longbottom—not that it was ok; he was a pure blood after all, nearly as pure as his own lines but it was _Neville_, the nearly squib of their year that was only hanging on by the skin of his teeth to all his classes save Herbology. With a snort he turned and headed over to his own table, fighting hard not to cast another glance in Neville's direction.

_And it's killin' me when you're away, I wanna leave and I wanna stay.  
>I'm so confused,So hard to choose.<br>Between the pleasure and the pain.  
>And I know it's wrong, and I know it's right.<br>Even if I try to win the fight, my heart would overrule my mind.  
>And I'm not strong enough to stay away<br>_

It didn't work, not in the least. Four maybe five times his eyes wandered over to the Gryffindor table and each time his breath caught in his throat as he studied Neville's profile. When had the slightly overweight child turned into a leaner teen? When had his bowl cut hair turned to light curls that gave him a bed tousled look and when had it become a crime for others to lean close and whisper into his ear? It took everything that he had to stand and move with a normal gait across the Dining Hall when breakfast was over and even then he found himself standing behind Neville.

He couldn't help himself; he leaned in just a bit and inhaled; the scent of warm earth, a light airy floral scent and something else clung to the teen's robes and he was sure that it was because of all the time he spent in the greenhouses with Professor Sprout. Still there wasn't anything that turned him off and his small inhale must have been more noticeable because the Ginger Terror of Gryffindor tower elbowed him sharply and scowled as he moved past. No words were spoken but the look in his eyes said more than enough.

With a deep scowl he shouldered past the clogged Gryffindors, stealing a small grope as he moved past Neville; turning to snarl at him when the blonde teen made some small noise of violation. The snarl however was to hide his own small whimper and smirked as Crabbe and Goyle advanced on the small group, their eyes on Potter and Weasley instead of the one his own were trained on. Neville's face was beet red and he looked down; his teeth once more scraping over his full bottom lip and it nearly undone him right there on the spot.

His hands itched to take the other teen into his arms and snog him senseless; he didn't even care that the majority of the school was witness to the act. It was so wrong, so against everything that he'd been brought up to adhere too but on some deep level there was a gut wrenching rightness. He _wanted_ to feel the other male against him; to touch muscles—though Neville seemed to be a bit soft in some places—rather than the pillow softness of a female. He _needed_ someone that could if they chose over power him and make him helpless. Not that he thought that Neville could do any such thing; the boy was too soft and quiet, if anything he was sure to be the dominate force in their affair. Of course that didn't really bother him either; he liked to be in control, he just sometimes wished he wasn't.

The small altercation was broken up by Professor McGonagall striding towards them and sending them on their way. That morning was Potions, something that sat rather well with him as he and his cronies headed down to the dungeon. It was well known that Professor Snape didn't open the door to his class until they were all in danger of being late, which meant plenty of time to torment and sneak heated looks at his Gryffindor. He stopped short, sending Crabbe and Goyle skittering around him to avoid running him over; when had Neville ceased to be 'that Gryffindor' and became 'his Gryffindor'? There were confused mutterings from his underlings and with a snorted sound of indifference he started back towards the dungeons.

Like he'd hoped there was a small queue of students waiting. Granted Neville and his little troop would be the ones to be last as they always were. He supposed it was smart thinking on their part; if they weren't part of the general mass then there was little time for them to get into any trouble. However their smart plan was a beginning to be a pain in his back side and he found himself tapping his foot impatiently as he waited. Soon the bushy brown mass of hair that could only be Granger moved into view and he stretched a bit, hoping that his glance in their direction wasn't completely obvious.

His scowl returned when he seen that Seamus had his arm around Neville's shoulder again and was bent towards his ear as if whispering into it. The blush was back and Neville gave a small laugh as he playfully pushed Seamus away. They looked for all intents and purposes to be a couple in the throes of a fresh relationship. And it made him see red. It made no difference that they weren't in the same house or even that he'd never voiced his attraction or intents on Neville. The blonde Gryffindor was his and his alone and it wasn't going to be long before the entire school knew about it—or at least Seamus.

Like clockwork the door to the lab opened and they filed in one by one, he taking his normal seat near the back and Neville sitting with Seamus in the far right corner. The double class drug by, each whispered inside joke, each seemingly innocent touch serving to make him angrier and angrier until he grew lax in his work and actually managed to screw up his own potion for the day. What sounded like a small explosion went off and he dived under his table, covering his head and waiting for something else to happen. The sound had made a few people scream and when he looked back from under the table all eyes were on him and his face was as red as Weasley's hair when sat back in his seat.

Like the large bat that the students compared him too Professor Snape swooped down on him and he looked down embarrassed that he'd caused the disruption instead of Neville; after all as the star pupil it wasn't he that made the messes, he was the example of what was right with Potions while Neville was Snape's example of a classic Dunderhead. As Snape tsked and tutted over his ruined potion he looked over and caught Neville staring at him as if he'd never seen him before a day in his life. Feeling like the worst sort of fool he crossed his arms on the desktop and dropped his head on them as Snape cleared away his mess with a flick of his wand. The rest of the class exchanged sniggers and he pushed past them all as he headed towards his next class—which thankfully didn't include any Gryffindors.

_I'm not strong enough to stay away  
>What can I do<br>I would die without you  
>In your presence my heart knows no shame<br>I'm not to blame  
>Cause you bring my heart to its knees<em>

The day passed without any more incidents, even Care of Magical Creatures was pretty normal. Neville stayed on his side with the other red and gold buffoons and he kept court with his house; every once in a while making cutting remarks about one or the other Gryffindors. However as the weeks and even the months wore on he found himself seeking out Neville; not actively so that they had alone time, but he moved his desk closer in potions, made it so that Professor Sprout paired them so that Neville could help him in Herbology, even went so far nod and say something cordial to Neville in the hall. It was ultimately part of his plan to confuse the blonde until he made the first move, but it was slowly grating on his nerves when he just seemed to be indifferent.

Finally, when the year was nearly over and he'd been practically courting the Gryffindor he had enough and found him alone in one of the Green houses, his hands encased in Dragon hide gloves as he transplanted some fanged plant to another pot. He waited in the foliage for a few moments just watching the pull of his muscles as he worked. His school robe lay draped over a chair along with his grey vest and the sleeves of his school issued white button up shirt were rolled up to his elbows. His face was set in a mask of concentration and he bit his lip as his eyes watched a bead of sweat roll down the side of his face. His hair was in wet ringlets about his face and was even a bit longer than it had been at the beginning of term.

Soon the silent voyeuristic pleasure he was getting wasn't enough and he moved on silent feet through the Greenhouse; the swish of his cloak masked by the quiet whisperings of Neville as he spoke to his plant. With a smirk he moved close to the back side of the slightly taller teen; and he loosely put his arms around Neville's waist; waiting for the blonde to jump and demand what was going on. Instead a light chuckle sounded and he felt it vibrate through his chest. Confused he moved to take his arms away but one of Neville's hands stopped that from happening, his newly de-gloved hand holding onto his wrists tightly.

"I was wondering when you were going to make your move."

He hadn't said a name so he just stayed quiet; making just a small noncommittal noise.

"What's the matter Malfoy, the cat got your tongue?"

Now he did pull away, wrenching his wrists away and standing aghast as Neville turned and leaned against the table, his arms crossed over his chest a wry grin on his face. For a few moments they just stared; he in disbelief and Neville in some sort of amusement. Finally he looked down, making a show of inspecting his nails as he fought the blush on his cheeks.

"So you knew then?" He asked in his most aloof voice.

"No, but I had my suspicions."

He dropped all pretenses then and just stared open mouthed at Neville; blinking a bit as his mind tried to come to terms with the fact that he'd been tricked into revealing something. His mouth flopped open a bit and he narrowed his eyes as Neville turned back to his plant.

"If you're going to imitate a cod fish…"

He didn't get to finish as he grabbed the other teen and spun him around; leaning up on tip toe and crashing their lips together. From his stretched position he could feel all of Neville pressed against him and his hands fisted in Neville's shirt as tried to get as close as he could. The tables were turned when Neville swung them around and pressed him against the hard wooden work space; his hands on his hips as his tongue swept around the dark recess of his mouth.

Small whimpers exploded between them and soon he had Neville's shirt open and he was leaving large red marks where he bit and sucked. Soon the air was full panted expletives and lips were swollen and flushed with blood. His eyes were molten silver as he ground against the taller teen and he smirked as Neville's head tipped back; exposing the creamy expanse of his throat. It didn't take much more coaxing for him to reach up and leave a large mark there as well; marking the Gryffindor as his own.

As they parted he pushed back and smirked at his handiwork. It was clear to him what those marks meant and even if Neville didn't reveal who had made them they said plainly to stay away, that he was spoken for. His inspection was cut short as Neville pulled him close and he let out a surprised gasp as he attacked the soft skin of his throat. It was clear what the blonde teen was doing and when he pulled away he gingerly touched the raw area; the light touch sending skittering fluttery feelings through his body.

They left the Greenhouse a while later, each going their own way with plans to meet up later that evening under the cover of darkness. As he waited his shivered; he never banked on his obsession leading to this but as his eye landed on his bite mark in the mirror he felt free and as their hands roamed skin later under the cover of the starry night he sighed; there was nothing that he wasn't willing to risk for this feeling and as he cried out; his hoarse cry ringing out his new lovers name and accompanied by whispered declarations of affection that he never even thought twice about.

_There's nothing I can do_  
><em>My heart is chained to you<em>  
><em>And I can't get free<em>  
><em>Look what this love's done to me<em>


End file.
